


When They Were in Marley

by nobodysparachute



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angst, EXTREMELY self-indulgent, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Snippets, Stream of Consciousness, unbeta
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-18 10:03:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21725803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nobodysparachute/pseuds/nobodysparachute
Summary: Two people taking care of each other. Giving comfort.
Relationships: Eren Kruger/Eren Yeager
Comments: 5
Kudos: 30





	When They Were in Marley

Under the dim light of the diner they were in, Mr. Krueger’s cheekbones were more pronounced. It’s such a weird thing to notice, but for Eren the older man was the most familiar thing in this new world he found himself in.

“Have you decided on something?” Mr. Krueger inquired distractedly, his grey eyes absent-mindedly roving around the diner. Eren wondered if he ever set foot into this place before. The memories that were laid and embedded into his brain were too scrambled up sometimes, only showing him the ruinous vision of the future or the feebleness of the past. Eren hated it, made him feels like nothing more than a marionette doomed to atrocious acts. Sometimes, sometimes Eren thought he hated this creature inside of him more than he hated the titans.

“Eren?”

“Oh, sorry. I’m.. I’m a bit distracted. Just need a few sec to get my thoughts into order.” Earlier this day, Mr. Krueger had instructed him to go to an abandoned factory that smelled of rotten fish and sewer water. Felt like it too. Somehow, the moment he entered the building, flashes of memories bloomed in his mind, and like always, Eren let the feelings washed over him, ruminating and mulling over it like a seed in his mouth. It lead him to pushing away a creaky shelf in a closet deep into the factory, and in the small room, behind a secret space in the wall, Mr. Krueger had stashed a small pouch full of cash. Eren barely peered into its contents before he heard a sound coming somewhere outside. It couldn’t be his squad, but Eren didn’t want to take any chance. He hightailed it as soon as he manage to creep outside silently, running a few blocks away before blending into the crowds. And here they are.

“Ah. Of course. Well, I insist that you order something. You only eat a bit of bread and fruit for breakfast, not sustainable for a growing boy.”

Eren looked at the small, flimsy paper tacked on the counter, proclaiming the dish of the day. When the waitress came, he ordered something that’s called “Orange Chicken”, and, an attempt of normalcy, a side dish of peas and potatoes. Potatoes are good, nutritious dish. Yeah, Eren thought he’s made a good choice.

Looking back, Eren was glad that he chose the secluded corner table, lest he got weird looks from others for talking to himself. Lay low, don’t attract attention to yourself.

“So, where do you want me to drop off the package?”

“Hmm?”

“Uhh, the package that you told me to get? I mean, is there somewhere or someone that I need to give it to?” Eren reasoned, wondering if Krueger had some people that managed to stay hidden under the watchful eyes of the Marley. Or maybe a special someone. Like ~~Armin and Mikasa~~. Wondered if he’s like Eren too, leaving someone behind under the guise of a better good.

Maybe that’s why he’s surprised by the small laugh of Krueger. His body wanted to jolt just a tiny bit, but years of military training prevented him from doing so. _I’ve never seen him laugh before_ thought Eren.

“No, no my boy. The money is for you. Or ,” he gave a wry smile, “ for whomever Titan holder that eats me, I guess. Maybe they can assess my memories or maybe some lucky sod will get the money first. And I got several more of those hidden away in the city, so don’t worry. Use as you see fit,”

“Oh,” that made sense, thought Eren. _I guess_. “Thanks.”

Mr. Kruger smiled in response.

* * *

In the dark of the night, under a worn, moth-eaten blanket, Eren cried.

“I’m sorry,”Eren mournfully murmured, tasting the salt lacing his tongue. “I’m sorry,” he prayed to the stars, the moon, the night sky, the way his mother always did. He prayed that the nature would come bundling down upon them all and just fucking destroy everything. Just so he wouldn’t have to.

He felt a strong familiar pair of arm surrounding him, but Eren couldn’t even mustered the energy to acknowledge the person behind him.

“My boy, my pitiful, crying boy,” the figure crooned, and Eren could felt the movements of his mouth on his scalp. And that steadied Eren, for a bit.

“Mr. Krueger, what if I can’t? Can’t do what’s need to be done. I, - oh God _Sasha_. Sasha, Mr. Kruger please, I can’t. If I, I just,” Eren mewled, slowly and painfully. Feeling like every words leaving his being were a curse that would befell every innocent being.

“I am here for you, Eren. For every step of the way. So, so-,”Clicking his tongue, Krueger’s arm encircled Eren’s head, his palm, solid and sure, cupping his face. Eren felt the pressure of his hand on his cheeks, the pads of his fingers across his lips and the bridge of his nose. It felt hot and wet.

Mr.Kruger kissed his eyelids, one by one. For a moment, Mr.Krueger let his mouth settled on Eren’s forehead. The sensation both foreign and tender. They were coiled tight together, the planes of their bodies touching, giving and receiving heat, impossible as it may be. Eren’s body and limbs sagged in exhaustion. Assured by the presence of another. For a moment the world was quiet. 

“You can. And you will,” A whisper in the dark.And Eren cried anew.

* * *

A large hand enveloped Eren’s own. His hand stilled on the door knobs, his bags left forgotten on the floor. Eren’s gaze shot up, meeting a pair of tired grey eyes. Except this time, there’s a sheen of concern reflected back. Mr.Krueger let his hand go, only to trace down the line of his coat. The weather outside was cold. Eren woke up chattering his teeth today.

The older man looked at his coat in distaste. “Why aren’t you wearing your new coat, hm?” asked Mr. Krueger. The aforementioned new coat was folded down on the small table beside the bed. Mr.Krueger insisted on Eren buying it because he was worried that Eren wouldn’t be able to acclimatise to the winter here because according to him _I rather see you puffed up as a penguin than watching your tits and balls fall down from the cold for goodness’ sake Eren just buy the fucking coat._ Eren ended up buying it, just because he had the rare pleasure of hearing the taller man cursed.

“I don’t even know what a penguin is,” Eren muttered, just to be a petulant brat.

“Stinky little bugger, the lots of them,” Mr. Kruger shot back.

They left it at that.

.

In the present, Eren just shrug, took off his coat and proceeded to wear the new one. He then spread his arms outwards, reminiscent of a child showing off to a cooing parent. There, satisfied?

Mr. Krueger tutted, walked over to him and trailed his hand along the fur lining the inside of the coat. Eren didn’t know what animal fur it was, but it did a good job making him felt warmer. The older man then pulled both end of the coat tightly and proceeded to button it up to the very last one at the top. He got a small “oof” from Eren as a reward.

Squirming, Eren watched as Mr. Krueger took his hands in his, silently giving him small and light strokes to his fingers. ”And where is your gloves? I don’t want to see you sick,’kay?”

Eren was torn from either being amused at the older man’s concern or wanting to quip back at him, want to ask if he’s going to be this fussy if Eren did get sick.

“Yeah, it’s in my bag.” Eren nodded towards said bag. The gloves was soft and buttery and Eren felt a bit awkward at having such luxurious items in his possession.

“Good boy,” Mr. Krueger’s voice was deep, and full with satisfaction. Eren could sensed his face flushing up. Just a little bit, though. The low voice of the older man found a home in his belly, spreading up to his chest and suddenly Eren felt a bit too full , too. And _oh, look,_ their hands were still within each other grasps.

Mr. Krueger cleared his throat, gave their hands a squeeze, firm and as missed as soon as it came. He smoothed Eren’s hair behind his ear and stroked the shell for a while. The drum of the movements travelled through his eardrum and into his brain. Eren ducked his head down.

* * *

Sometimes, sometimes Eren wondered where the touch-starvation came from. Whether it’s from him or Mr. Krueger. If it’s from Eren and Mr. Krueger was being kind to not mention it. Or it’s from Mr. Krueger himself and that’s why Eren let whatever happening now happened.

Today, the older man was draping Eren’s legs across his laps, his fingers softly touching the scars that Eren earned from his ~~Armin’s~~ bullies, from Shadis’ sadistic training regime, from the titans. The deep-seated, plum-coloured bruises of his 3DMG gears. The grey eyes of the man was intent on his skin, the ugly patchworks of it all. Eren refused to be embarrassed the scrutiny.

Mr. Krueger’s fingers followed an invincible line, slow and sumptuous, along one ankle, down over his calf, cupping and squeezing the cord of muscles there. Around his knee and on his thigh, the older man spread out his hands, taking the space there. Eren watched as he slowly leaned down and put his head at the junction of his pelvis, and like his hand, he continued the journey. When he reached Eren’s belly, he stayed there. And breathed out, and in and out,out,out. The warm breath tickled and Eren huffed out a laugh. Mr. Krueger looked upwards, smiled at him, mirth curling at his lips, but remained silent.

For a moment, Eren had this pull, a _need, a compulsion_ to touch him. To give something back. So he did.

His hand inching forward, palm resting on the older man’s cheeks. Mr. Krueger responded by taking the idle hand and laid his face in it, his nose nuzzling the palm, breathing out a sigh.

Eren wondered if the dark-haired man could feel his pulse trembling.

**Author's Note:**

> Writing after a long time. Need to get this out, no matter how plain it is. Unbetaed.


End file.
